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LIMITED EDITION 



THIS FIRST EDITION OF 

THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

IS LIMITED TO 

2000 COPIES 

AND THIS BOOK IS 

No.-J^d 



""Q{u.^aeU. 



THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 




Death circles o'er the mire and gore 
Where men each other slay. 

Stanza XXXVI, Page 48 



THE RHYME OF THE 

WOODMAN'S Dream 

AND OTHER POEMS 

BY 

John Mellor 



\, Illustrations and Decorations 

1 BY Harry e. Godwin 




1921 

JOHN MELLOR & SONS. PUBLISHERS, 

PITTSBURGH. PA., U. S, A. 






THE Rrl-iME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

Copyright 193 7 by John Mellor, Pittsburgh, Pa. 
Copyright 1919 by John Mellor, Pittsburgh, Pa. 
Copyright 1921 by John Mellor, Pittsburgh, Pa. 

Printed in the United States of America 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 

Published, July 1921 



AUG -4 \\j21 
©CU622318 






TO 

WHO FOR THIRTY-TWO YEARvS 
HAS BEEN A HELP MEET FOR ME 

Jl ICiiiituglii Ir^trat? 

THIS LITTLE 
BOOK 



Facit indignatio versum 

Juvenal — Satirae I. 79. 



CONTENTS 



Page 
THE APOLOGY ^ 

THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

Prologue 23 

Brewing the Hell Broth 33 

The Juggernaut of War - 43 

The Horrors of the Deep __ 53 

The Prophecy of Doom 63 

The Brand of Cain 

Nemesis 

MEMORIAL DAY 97 

THE WAR LORD 99 

APPENDIX 

Notes 102 



Now could I drink hot blood" 

Hamlet Act III., Scene 2. 



FULL PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 



Page 

Foath ch'cles o'er the mire and gore 
Where men each other slay Frontispiece 

An oak tree stood deep in a wood 

Where lovers used to rove 26 

I see them all— the cartridge ball— 

The bayonet — the sword 36 

Through Belgian land, by my command, 
We liacked our bloody way 46 

In all my dreams I hear the screams 
Of men and women drowned 56 

Look boy! I seem to see my dream! 
Look! There the foul fiend peers 66 

Thy regal gear shall disappear 
■And fail from thee apart '^^ 

Her smile doth strike me through. It's like 
A dagger to my heart 86 

The captain swears, his pistol flares 

Down sinks the nurse to die 90 



Our English Martyrologer counted it a sufficient 
APOLOGY for what meanness might be found in the 
first edition of his "Acts and Monuments," that it 
was '^hastily rashed up in about fourteen months." 

COTTON MATHER, 
Introduction to Magnalia Christi Americana. 




THE APOLOGY 

OETRY is a drug on the market. This being 
true no apology seems to be due from one 
making such a remark. Since it is so trite it 
would appear as if it were doubly necessary 
that an apology should be forthcoming from 
any one who would deliberately perpetrate poetry, pub- 
lish it, and thus inflict it upon a suffering public. 

Furthermore, the apology due the public for this 
breach of the rules of civilized peacefare will be all the 
more necessary if it is discovered that the offender is a 
gray-haired man, verging on sixty years of age. The 
putting together of jingling rhymes by a young man 
may be excused, but for a grandfather to indulge in it 
requires some apology or special pleading. 

I intend this to take the place of a "Preface" because 
in most books the "Preface" is the place where the 
author makes his excuse to his readers for his work. 

A "Preface" is a useful contrivance which may be 
found convenient for padding out a book that would 
otherwise look very thin; and, as "bulk" may be mis- 
taken for "quality" by some people, the author is tempted 
to stretch it out in the hope that the reader will be 
beguiled into believing that he has received his money's 
worth. However, as the "Preface" is also the place 
where an author tells why, and how, and wherefore, he 
came to write his book, I must perform that task. 

About forty years ago a noted tragedian had in his 
repertory Hood's poem, "The Dream of Eugene Aram," 
which he recited occasionally, or when the play of the 



10 THE A POLOGY __^ 

evening was short. I remember, one evening being in 
the top gallery of a theatre, among the "gods," when he 
recited this poem, and I sat spellbound. The next day I 
bought the poem, and after a few readings, I knew it by 
heart. I had not before appreciated its dramatic power. 
In my humble opinion Hood's "Eugene Aram" is the 
greatest narrative ballad that has ever been written, 
judging it from a "dramatic" or "recitative" point of 
view. I am aware that a noted writer has said " 'The 
Ancient Mariner' is as rounded as a gem, and the light 
that plays through it is unstained by a single flaw." 

That's exactly the point I wish to make for "Eugene 
Aram," the light that plays through it. Now, if a so- 
called picture is all light it will be no picture, there must 
be splashes or even great expanses of dark, black or 
gray; in other words, there must be contrasts, and the 
closer the contrasts, the more effective will be the picture. 
It is contrast that makes the scene in Hamlet, (Act 
III., Scene 4) so effective. Here Hamlet is showing his 
mother, in imagination, the pictures of his father and of 
his uncle, (her present husband and the murderer of his 
father.) He says: — 

"Look here, upon this picture, and on this." 
There we have a dramatic introduction to a descrip- 
tion of his father, after which he says: — 

•'This was your husband. Look you now, what follows : 
Here is your husband; like a mildew' d ear. 
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? 
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, 
And batten on this moor?" 

There we have contrast in a marked degree, the fair 

picture of one husband and the black picture of the other. 

In "Eugene Aram" these contrasts abound. You will 

remember how Aram kills his victim, how he attempts 



THE APOLOGY 1 1 

to hide the body by casting it into a stream, "a sluggish 
water black as ink," and how he "sat among the urchins 
young, that evening in the school." Then follows: — 
"Oh Heaven! to think of their WHITE souls 
And mine so BLACK and grim." 
After a sleepless night spent in agony, Aram decides 
to go and see "The Dead Man in his grave." Then come 
the following two stanzas: — 

"Heavily I rose up, as soon 

As light was in the sky, 
And sought the black accursed pool 

With a wild misgiving eye; 
Ann I saw the dead in the river bed 

For the faithless stream was dry. 

Merrily rose the lark, and shook 
The dewdrop from his wing; 

But I never marked his morning flight, 
I never heard him sing; 

For I was stooping once again 
Under the horrid thing." 

Mark the great contrast between the opening lines 
in these two stanzas, "Heavily I rose up," and, "Merrily 
rose the lark." I cannot find in the whole of the "Ancient 
Mariner," which is nearly four times as long as "Eugene 
Aram," anything that appeals to me as being nearly 
as forceful in dramatic power as the stanzas quoted 
above. Hood's works abound with such dramatic con- 
trasts. Take, for example, this stanza from the simple 
bullad, "I Remember, I Remember," which you all know: — 

"I remember, I remember. 

The roses, red and white, 
The violets, and the lily-cups, 

Those flowers made of light! 
The lilacs where the robin built. 

And where my brother set 
The laburnum on his birthday, — 

The tree is living yet!" 



12 THE APOLOGY 

There is tragedy in that last line and vivid contrast 
too, although Hood does not express it in words, it is 
there. "The TREE is living yet." He does not SAY that 
his brother is dead but you know it, you FEEL it, and 
the vivid contrast, the LIVING tree, the DEAD brother, 
is presented to the mind's eye in a striking manner. 

Therefore it is that I like Hood better than Coleridge. 
While I know that the prevailing opinion of the literary 
critics of the present day is opposed to this view, I also 
know that 'The Ancient Mariner" has an advantage over 
"Eugene Ai-am" because the former is used as a theme 
for a textbook on poetry in some of our schools and 
colleges. The reader is entitled to his own opinion, just 
as well as are the critics, and my opinion, expressed 
here, wiJl help to swell this little book. Indeed, it may 
result in saving "The Woodman's Dream" from criticism. 
Victor Hugo in his preface to "Cromwell" says: — 
"Notes and prefaces are sometimes a convenient 
method of adding weight to a book, and of magni- 
fying in appearance, at least, the importance, of a 
work; as a matter of tactics this is not dissimilar to 
that of the general who, to make his battlefront more 
imposmg, puts everything, even his baggage trains, 
in the line. And then, while critics fall foul of the 
preface and scholars of the notes, it may happen 
that the M'ork itself will escape them, passing unin- 
jured between their cross-fires, as an army extricates 
Itself from a dangerous position between two skir- 
mishes of outposts and rearguards." 
Thus far we have traveled in this Apology, and I 
have not yet told you why I came to write the work 
which follows, but I have been gradually leading up to it. 
When the Great War broke upon the world in August, 
1914, the power of Germany — the greatest military 
nation the world has ever known — became concentrated 



THE APOLOGY IS 



upon the destruction of life and property. For forty- 
four years the whole of the inventive genius of that 
nation had been occupied with the invention and produc 
tion of military lethal weapons; its ruling class had been 
engaged in drilling and equipping the greatest army that 
ever came under the dominance of one directing mind; 
and its teachers and college professors were absorbed in 
the task of imbuing the whole German nation with the 
idea that their lethal weapons were so powerful, perfect, 
and plentiful, that no combination of nations, not even 
the whole world, could withstand them. As a conse- 
quence they became obsessed with the idea of "World 
Conquest," the motto, "Might is Right," became their own. 

The German military leaders knew that the success 
of their plans depended upon rapidity of action, so, from 
the start, the invaders of Belgium and France conducted 
the war with a ruthlessness and brutality scarcely believ- 
able by those of us who were four thousand miles away. 
Only by a violent stretch of the imagination could we 
half realize what it meant to have thousands of square 
miles of countryside laid waste; villages, towns, and 
cities utterly destroyed; and men, women, and children, 
by the mJllion, driven from their homes. 

When we considered the terrible atrocities that were 
committed in Belgium, Poland, Serbia, Montenegro, and 
Albania, all of which were laid waste by fire and sword; 
the sacking of Louvain, the destruction of Rheims, the 
bombardment of unprotected cities, the dropping of Zep- 
pelin bombs on peaceful villages, the ruthless sinking of 
the Lusitania, with more than a thousand non-combatant 
victims, the destruction of hundreds of other vessels, 
including hospital ships, and the consequent loss of thou- 
sands of innocent lives; when we reflected upon all these 



14 THE APOLOGY 



things, and upon the millions of lives that were sacri- 
ficed in battle, our horror and indignation naturally cen- 
tered upon the instigator of this atrocious crime, the arch- 
criininal," the man who "lifted the lid off hell" — the 
ruthless and brutal Kaiser. 

One day while thinking about these things the 
well-known passage from "The Dream of Eugene Aram" 
flashed in my mind: — 

"And well," quoth he, "I know for truth. 

Their pangs must be extreme 
Woe. Woe, unutterable woe — 

Who spill life's sacred stream! 
For why? Methought, last night, I wrought 
A murder in my dream!" 

Instantly; the whole poem came to my memory and 
as I thought of the terrible mental anguish that Aram, 
an unknown scholar engaged in the study of Chaldee, 
Hebrew, Arabic, and the Celtic languages, suffered for 
fifteen years before his crime w^as discovered and paid 
for on the gallows, I wondered what kind of mental tor- 
ture would be fitting for the Kaiser to endure for his 
great crime. Here was a criminal who had caused the 
death of millions of men, women, and children. Aram 
had killed but one man. 

The latter was simply a teacher in an obscure vil- 
lage; the former was an emperor who had amused the 
world for a quarter of a century with his vanity, his 
glittering pomp, and his braggadocio, and then for four 
years had filled the eye of the world with the greatest 
spectacle of horror and brutality that has ever been wit- 
nessed. What kind of thoughts must come to the Kaiser 
now in his exile? What sort of dreams does he now 
have — now that his dream of world dominion is dis- 
solved—dissolved at such a terrible cost? 



THE APOLOGY 15 

In order to depict the Kaiser's gloomy thoughts, his 
dreadful day dreams, and the revolting nightmares that 
must obsess him in his lonely exile, the pen of a Hood, 
magnified ten million times, would be needed. Obviously, 
there is no pen poignant enough for the task; no hand 
capable of wielding such a pen; no human brain capable 
of directing it with any hope of measurable success. 

It seemed fitting, however, that someone should 
essay the task, if for no other reason than to leave a 
record of the terrible scenes that were enacted during 
the Great War, compressed, as it were, into a nutshell. 

During the war hundreds of volumes came pouring 
from the press concerning the mobilization of troops, 
the movemencs of vast armies, the tactics of great 
generals, the quarrels of petty politicians, the farsighted 
visions of wise statesmen, and the opinions of strategists 
on this or that phase of the war. I then cherished the hope 
that someone would write a book that would show war 
in its most revolting and forbidding aspect; war, in its 
repulsive ugliness; war, stripped naked of all its glamour; 
war, showing its most disgusting features, in order to 
make war, if possible, more abhorrent to mankind. 

While meditating on this subject and waiting for such 
a book to appear I picked up a copy of "The Rhyme of 
the Ancient Mariner," which was written more than one 
hundred and twenty years ago. I had read this little 
masterpiece scores of times, but, at this moment, (the 
armistice had just been signed), it had a new interest. 

Coleridge in this fine work depicts, in incomparable 
language, the Mariner's wanton cruelty in shooting an 
albatross, "that made the wind to blow," an act which 
draws down upon him and his companions the wrath of 
the tutelary spirits of tie polar region. Those sailors 



16 THE APOLOGY 

who merely acquiesced in the killing of ttie bird, in the 
belief that such birds "bring the fog and mist," are pun- 
ished with death, but the Ancient Mariner, the prime 
offender, is reserved for more particular vengeance. He 
is to be forced to live, although he prays for death, in 
order to endure the pangs of spiritual torture. There- 
fore, it will be seen that the "idea" for the following 
work was suggested by the poems of Hood and 
Coleridge. 

The critics of the present day place a new writer in 

an embarrassing position. One-half of them perpetually 

and vociferously cry, "Be Original!" The other half, just 

,t as loudly and just as incessantly cry into his ears, "Copy 

\A the Models." Now it is evident that a writer cannot fol- 

'■^ low both precepts. If he is original, the "Copy the 

1 Model" dogs hound him; if he "Copies the Models" the 

; "Be Original" wolves take up the scent. Between the 

two kinds of critics a new writer has little chance to 

I escape. 

All critics pelt a new writer with the names of 

dead men, no, having gotten the "idea" from two famous 

j/ dead men, it looked as if I ought to stand in well with 

I the "Copy the Model" crowd. However, I decided to 

throw a sop to the "Be Original" school by casting the 

idea in a mold entirely different from that adopted by 

5/ either Hood or Coleridge. 

ijv What kind of verse ought I to adopt in order to 

i express the ideas I wished to convey in a forcible man- 

ner? We all realize that form and movement in a poem 
deserve as much consideration as thought and emotion, 
and I soon found myself forced back upon a combination 
of the iambic tetrameter with the iambic trimeter, these 
two alternating. This style of verse was the only one 







:J' 



THE APOLOGY 17 



that I could use that would lend emphasis to the rapid 
movement of the composition. It would also force me to 
confine tho narrative to very short, snappy sentences, 
and to short Saxon words, chiefly of one or two syllables, 
thus accentuating the disturbed state of mind, the turbu- 
lence of thought, and the tumultuous agitation of the 
chief character to the highest degree, all of which I 
desired and hoped to depict. 

The verse adopted was the verse of "Eugene Aram" 
and "The Ancient Mariner," another concession to the 
"Copy the Model" crowd, which cannot fail to draw down 
upon me the wrath of the "Be Original" school. 

However, I was overjoyed to discover that the great 
master, Coleridge himself, did not invent this verse, but 
copied it from old ballads written two or three hundred 
years before his time. William Wordsworth, poet laure- 
ate, who suggested the idea of "The Ancient Mariner," 
co-operated with Coleridge in the composition, and fur- 
nished some of the lines of the poem, says in the preface 
to the first edition of "Lyrical Ballads" (1798), where 
"The Ancient Mariner" occupies first place: — 

"The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere was pro- 
fessedly written in imitation of the style, as well as 
as of the spirit of the elder poets; but with a few 
exceptions, the author believes that the language 
adopted in it has been equally intelligible for these 
last three centuries." 

Being now perfectly satisfied that I ought to "Copy 
the Models," I plunged into the composition and in a short 
time had about fifty stanzas written. Each stanza was 
of six lines, the second, fourth, and sixth, rhyming. 
Here and there, about every other stanza, I inserted a 
leonine line, just like "The Models." I had the composi- 
tion set in type and struck off ten proofs, which I distri- 



buted among friends who had a taste for poetry. I was 
pleased with its reception but not entirely satisfied, as 
my literary friends objected to those stanzas which now 
appear in Parts III and IV, showing the revolting features 
of war on land and sea. Those that I considered the best 
parts, they considered the worst, because they said these 
stanzas were too distressful to be read with pleasure. 
My object in writing the ballad was to draw such an 
appalling picture of the late war; that war, abhorrent as 
it always is, would be made still more abhorrent in the 
mind of the reader, so I was disappointed. 

While casting about for some solution of the prob- 
lem, I happened to read Wordsworth's preface to the 
second edition of "Lyrical Ballads," (1800). This is the 
most exhaustive treatise on what might be called the 
"anatomy" of poetry that had appeared up to that time, 
and there I found the solution. Briefly, then, Words- 
worth asserts that "it is unquestionably true that more 
pathetic situations and sentiments, that is, those that 
have a greater proportion of pain connected with them, 
may be endured in metrical composition, especially in 
rhyme, than in prose." He fortifies this opinion by 
appealing to the reader's own experience of the reluc- 
tance with which he comes to the re-perusal of the dis- 
tressful part of a novel, while the most pathetic scenes 
in poetry never act upon us as pathetic, beyond the bounds 
of pleasure. In different words he ascribes this to the 
small but continual and regular impulses of pleasurable 
surprise received from the metrical arrangement. 
Furthermore, he asserts that although the poet's words 
should be incommensurate with the passion he attempts 
to describe, still, the feelings of pleasure engendered in 
the reader's mind by the regular movement of the rhyme. 



^^--■^■i r^'-'Z 



THE APOLOGY 19 



the musical composition of the words, the pleasing ar- 
rangement of the accented and the unaccented syllables, 
together with the consonance of sound at the end of 
every rhythm or "beat" of the lines, will enhance the 
feelings of pleasure, will contribute greatly in imparting 
passion to the words, and will thus effect the complex 
end that is proposed. 

This fr-rnished me with a new idea. What I needed 
was not less horror but more rhyme, not less "raw heads 
and bloody bones," but more rhythmic beats; not a toning 
down of the distressful parts of the ballad, but an inten- 
sification of the musical arrangement of the accented 
and the unaccented syllables. Following the new clue, 1 
started to turn the first, third, and fifth lines of all the 
distressful stanzas into leonine lines. This is variously 
called a sectional, medial or line rhyme and is an agree- 
ment of sound occurring in the same line. The masters 
have furnished examples: — 

" 'Twas in the prime of summertime."— Hood. 

"I dwelt alone in a world of moan." — Poe. 

"Then gently scan your brother man." — Burns. 

"In Debtor's Yard the stones are hard."— Wilde. 

"We were the first that ever burst."— Coleridge. 

"The splendor falls on castle walls."— Tennyson. 

"His looks were cold, he gave me gold." — Mackay. 

"His breast was bare, his matted hair."— Longfellow. 

When this revision was made I had ten new proofs 
taken and submitted them to my critical friends, who 
were delighted with the changes made. Those who pre- 
viously did not like the descriptions of distressful scenes 
that were actually witnessed by "Our Boys" who went to 
France, could now read the poem with pleasure, although 
in re-writing the leonine lines, I made the scenes still 
more distressful, in order to test Wordsworth's theory. 



20 THE APOLOGY 

I spent the next few months in enlarging the work, 
re-arranging it, dividing it into sections, filling in and 
eliminating, in order to make it a continuous whole, and 
turning all the tetrameter into leonine lines. It is 
just possible that I have over-shot the mark in this latter 
respect, as the opening stanzas, the scene in the peaceful 
wood, "where lovers used to rove," do not require the 
wealth of rhyme that is required from the beginning of 
Part III to the end. However, as rapid action develops 
quite early, I decided to commence the poem with the 
same rapidity of motion in order to get the reader into 
the "swing" at the start. I know that a reader experiences 
a feeling of annoyance when he is compelled to change 
from one measure or style to another. While reading a 
poem with lively pleasure, he encounters a line that 
will not "scan;" and then he is compelled to go back and 
either double up two syllables into the time of one or 
lengthen out one syllable to do duty for two, in order to 
secure "the beat" which he is now accustomed to in that 
particular poem. The reader therefore feels annoyed 
and this decreases his pleasure. 

While making this revision I had new proof copies 
taken every week or so and invariably gave them away, 
keeping one for revision. More than five hundred copies 
were distributed and many of those who received them 
came to my office to have me put my signature on their 
copies. In talking with the people I had an unusual 
opportunity to test out Wordsworth's theory, which I 
have found to be correct. 

Occasionally I found a critic who objected to the 
wealth of rhyme, but only a few raised that objection. 
In a poem with a pastoral theme this would be a serious 
objection; but, in a poem which attempts to describe the 



THE APOLOGY 



terrible scenes that occurred while the greatest tragedy 
the world has known was being enacted, the entire work 
should be saturated with rhyme and rhythm, in order to 
offset the horrific scenes. This is only my humble opinion, 
of course; but, it is fortified by my experience in the 
unusual opportunity I had in testing it out while the 
poem was being composed, 

I fully realize that there ought to be some breathing 
spells in order to break the monotony, and a few of these 
have been provided, notably in Stanza X, where the tri- 
meter lines are lengthened one syllable; in Stanza LXII. 
where the lines are irregular and in Stanza CVI, which 
should be read straight through without emphasis on the 
rhyming words, (as one would read the passage from the 
Apocalypse of which this stanza is a paraphrase), al- 
though it is in the same measure as the other stanzas 
and has perfect or nearly perfect rhymes. 

At the outset I intended to print only a few copies in 
pamphlet form to give to friends, but the demand for 
copies bound in more durable form caused me to com- 
mence the preparation of this edition. 

One year had elapsed from the time I had written 
the last line of the poem when I was persuaded to issue 
it in book form. It was then that I became aware of its 
many imperfections and set about eliminating them. In 
this I have been helped by Professor Harry W. Fisher, of 
the Pittsburgh Public Schools, the Rev. Rudolph E.Schulz, 
and by Mr. James P. McMahon, who furnished me with 
new ideas and corrected some of my rhetorical errors. 

If any success attends the publication of this edition 
a large part of the credit must be given to Mr. Harry E. 
Godwin, of the Pittsburgh Dispatch. This famous artist 
has made twenty drawings which illustrate the text in a 



22 THE APOLOGY 

striking manner. His many admirers will recognize the 
Godwin technique, which make his pictures stand out 
boldly and arrest the eye by their striking originality. 

To Sergeant Clyde Titterington, of Ligonier, Pa., 
I am indebted for the idea expressed in Stanza XLV. 
This young man, as fine a specimen of American man- 
hood as ever lived, joined the army at the instant Amer- 
ica became a belligerent and was one of the first to go 
overseas. He was wounded three times in rapid succession, 
The third wound was caused by the explosion of a shell, 
which tore away one hip, ripped open his abdomen and 
wounded him in a dozen other places. He was an inmate 
of the best French, British, and American hospitals for 
two years, suffering excruciating agony, and is now a 
cripple for life, — a horrible example of the results of 
"civilized" warfare. Sergeant Titterington is not singled 
out for special mention here because he is a special case; 
he is nierely one of hundreds of thousands. I mention him 
because he was the first to observe and to furnish me 
with the idea mentioned above, which, to my knowledge, 
has not heretofore been set forth in print, curious and 
interesting as it may be. 

In concluding this "Apology" I will say that if each 
one of a few hundred readers derives one per cent, of 
the pleasure from reading this poem that I have enjoyed 
in writing it, and if the next "great civilized war" is 
retarded for a brief, period only^ on account of the horrors 
which the composition depicts, I shall feel amply repaid. 

JOHN MELLOR. 
Pittsburgh, Pa. 
July 23, 1921. 



THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PART I 

PROLOGUE 



SUMMARY OF PART I 




BALLAD opens with a picture of a woodman, 
who, to get away from the disquieting 
memories of war, goes out to the quiet 
woods to chop trees, and, in so doing, destroys 
nature as he had destroyed man and all his 
works— brutally, unfeelingly. He finds a boy innocently 
reading a murder tale and it shows him how much more 
of a culprit he has been in bringing on a great war. He 
is impelled to tell his story to the boy, even though it is 
horrible. He does not exult in it— he just tells it as he 
saw it. He, like all others of his race, really feels no 
remorse— he is only sorry that his plans were not real- 
ized. He seldom identifies himself with the murderous 
war, except as he witnessed it in his dreams. Yet, on 
occasion, he gets beyond control and inveighs against 
God for failing to support him in his scheme of World 
Control. His story, told to the boy, in the similitude of 
a dream, pictures the dreadful happenings of the greatest 
war ever known — his sleeplessness and the horrible 
scenes that are brought before his eyes by an accusing 
conscience. 




An oak tree stood deep in a wood 
Where lovers used to rove 



Stanza I, Page 27 



THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PART I 

PROLOGUE 



STANZA I 



An oak tree stood deep in a wood 
Where lovers used to rove ; 

A woodman grim, sombre and slim, 
Came to that leafy cove 

And stopped in glee before that tree- 
A monarch of the grove. 



STANZA II 

The woodman eyed the forest's pride 
And marked it for his o^vn ; 

Then whet with zeal his axe of steel 
Upon a smoothen'd stone; 

Stripped off his coat and fiercely smote 
The trunk with moss o'ergrown. 

(27) 



28 THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA III 

From side to side, the woodman plied 

His axe upon the bole. 
The white gash grew, the light chips flew, 

The keen steel took its dole ; 
His every stroke cried out and spoke 

Of anguish in his soul. 



STANZA IV 

The sounds that rose from ringing blows 

Re-echoed clear and strong. 
The rabbit stole to safer hole, 

The thrush forgot its song ; 
The startled hare sought refuge where 

The bracken fronds were long. 



STANZA V 

A final stroke ! Down crashed the oak 
And strewed its mast around. 

The woodman laughed. His handicraft 
New victory had found, 

For now the great old potentate 
Lay prone upon the ground. 






THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 29 



STANZA VI 

This act, designed to ease his mind, 
Seemed to him wholly good ; 

Although heart-sore he gloated o'er 
The havoc in the wood. 

For on that day a dead thing lay 
Where once a monarch stood. 



STANZA VII 

''0 God!" cried he, ''Why didst Thou see 

Fit to withhold Thy hand 
And stultify the scheme when I 

A world dominion planned? 
Why did'st Thou not help out my plot 

To conquer every land?'* 



STANZA VIII 

Now when the oak crashed down and broke 

Its branches on the mold, 
The sound aroused a boy who drowsed — 

A lad but twelve years old ; 
Who — thin and pale — dozed o'er a tale 

Of one who killed for gold. 



30 THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA IX 

At boy and book the woodman took 

One look of brief annoy ; 
Then, with a gaze of much amaze, 

He marked the lad's employ; 
Anon stood near, and, with a sneer, 

He thus addressed the boy: 



STANZA X 

''My little man, what dost thou scan? 

Some tale of Eastern harem ? 
Of heroes strong ? Perhaps a song 

Of timid harum-scarum?" 
With half-turned head the youngster said, 

" 'The Dream of Eugene Aram.' "® 



STANZA XI 

The woodman's jaw fell down in awe, 

And fear his face o'erspread; 
His blood ran cold, his eyeballs rolled, 

He shook with terror dread; 
His keen eyes quailed, his temples paled, 

His tongue weighed down like lead. 

©For explanation of all Reference Marks see Appendix, Page, 102. 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM :n 



STANZA XII 

With feartul face he stood apace, 

Then sat beside the lad 
And thus began: "My little man, 

Oft dreams will drive men mad; 
Yet T can claim all dreams are tame 

Compared with one I've had. 



STANZA XIII 

''Hark! Listen, boy, thine ears employ, 

A tale I 11 tell to thee, 
'Twill sack thy veins, fill thee with pains, 

Illusion thouj^h it be. 
A dream supreme, but yet a dream, 

Which Cometh oft to me. 



STANZA XIV 

"Oh! Horrid theme! This haunting dream 

Comes to me when I sleep; 
And when awake — I quake and shake, 

It makes my marrow creep ; 
My trembling soul, beyond control. 

Is plunged in anguish deep. 



32 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA XV 

' * I never rest ! — Within my breast 

A fiery furnace lies ; 
No thing can quench, no waters drench 

This heart-burn which outvies 
Ten thousand hells. Within me dwells 

A worm that never dies. 



STANZA XVI 

"My spent brain teems with ghastly dreams 

That scourge like wire whips; 
Blood everywhere, blood in the air. 

Blood from my body drips; 
Blood — I have caused" — The woodman paused 

And wet his burning lips. 




TI[E RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PARTH 

BREWING THE HELL BROTH 



SUMMARY OF PART II 




HE WOODMAN here tells the boy of the 
mighty scheme, "World Empire," that was 
the start of his dream, which obsessed him 
so much that it finally formed an excuse to 
start the W^orld War. He is persuaded and 
finally believes that he is powerful enough to become a 
world-conqueror, like Alexander the Great or Julius 
Caesar, and, not only become the master of all the world 
as it was known in their days, but of all the regions that 
have since been discovered. He believes that he can be 
more successful than Napoleon, and win the prize so 
nearly achieved by the Corsican one hundred years ago. 
He describes the feverish enthusiasm with which his 
people built up their great war machine in anticipation of 
"The Day." Finally, when the preparations were com- 
plete, comes a time when France is foul with graft and 
corruption, Russia ripe for revolution. Great Britain on 
the verge of civil war, and America, as always, unpre- 
pared for the conflict. The Day, the Hour, had come. 




The blood I've spilled! Oh! I have killed 
Ten million in my dreams. 

Stanza XXI, Page 38 



THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PARTH 

BREWING THE HELL BROTH 



STANZA XVII 



''Boy, ill that book the dreamer took 

One single human life ; 
His greed and thirst for gold accurst 

Were motives for the strife ; 
His methods rude, his weapons crude — 

A stick — a stone — a knife. 



STANZA XVITI 

' ' But in my dream, a mighty scheme — 
' World Empire ' — was the stake ; 

Ten inillion Huns manned roaring guns 
When I the order spake; 

Their weapon chest contained the best 
That hand and brain could make. 

(87) 



38 THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA XIX 

"I see them all — the cartridge ball — 

The bayonet — the sword — 
Bombs — shot and shell — the bolts of hell — 

Krupp's deadly guns that roared — 
The hand grenade — the short trench blade- 

The poison gas abhorred. 



STANZA XX 

''The weltering field with blood congealed 

Tlie ruddy, bloody stream; 
The measured tread of those now dead ; 

The cannon's crimson gleam, 
The shrapnel 's hiss — Boy ! Listen ! This 

Is but a ghastly dream. 



STANZA XXI 

*'In foul extreme my dreadful dream 
Outranks all phantom themes, 

As solar light, effulgent, bright, 
Transcends all earthly beams. 

The blood I've spilled! Oh! I have killed 
Ten millions in my dreams." 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 39 



STANZA XXII 

''Now, mark me well! For I must tell 
This loathsome dream of mine. 

I dreamt this thing: I was a king 
Who ruled by right divine. 

Three score and ten millions of men 
Upheld my fell design. 

STANZA XXIII 

''Around my throne, Avith hearts of stone, 
Were Junkers shrewd and sly ;® 

They flattered me on bended knee ; 
They praised me to the sky; 

They said I trod the ways of God, 
And I believed the lie. 



STANZA XXIV 

"And they did swear our people were 

Jehovah's chosen race; 
I was His Sword— His great War-Lord 

Annointed by His grace — 
His Weapon Bright— His Chosen Knight— 

His Sceptre and His Mace. 



40 THK WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA XXV 

*'At length/' he said, "This tui'iied triy head 

Filled me Avitli martial fire; 
Before my eyes I saw the prize — 

Napoleon's great desire; 
And at my feet — success complete — 

The great, roiiiid world entire. 



STANZA XXVI 

"Then Alexander's world so grand 

Would to r-ny will comply; 
Tlien I coidd brag great Caesar's flag 

Ne'er flew where inine would fly; 
Then kings would be subject to me — 

The Highest of the Hisrh. 



STANZA XXVII 

"This great design of theirs and mine 
Was harbored night and day; 

For forty years, our engineers 
Planned for the coming fray, 

Until at last the prize so vast 
Close to my clutches lay. 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 41 



STANZA XXVIII 

*'My troops were keen, of steady mien, 

Their weapons of the best. 
The largest guns, shells weighing tons, 

Came forth at my behest. 
No foes could pass the poison gas 

That we alone possessed. 



STANZA XXIX 

* ' With lightning speed, as was our need, 

We built dread submarines ; 
M}^ sea-lord planned, my minions mamned 

These murderous machines 
Designed to waft all merchant craft, 

To wreck by foulest means. 



STANZA XXX 

*'My mighty fleet, vast and complete, 

Was eager for 'Der Tag';® 
'The Day' so good, when my ships would 

The greatest navy flog — 
When my grand fleet would face and beat 

The mighty British dog. 



42 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA XXXI 

''We had in hand all that we planned — 

Munitions, maps, and feed ; 
Large stores of Avheat, bombs, clothing, meat, 

Fast aeroplanes — Indeed, 
From safety pins to Zeppelins 

We'd all that v/e mio^ht need. 



STANZA XXXII 

"In Gaiil seethed graft, intrigues, and craft, 

In Muscovy unrest; 
Albion was rife with civil strife, 

Columbia was a jest. 
They should succumb— The "Day" had come, 

So I the button pressed." 




TtlE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PART HI 

THE JUGGERNAUT OF WAR 



SUMMARY OF PART III 




[HIS PART describes the swift march of the 
invaders through Belgium and Northern 
France, the sack of Louvain and the terrible 
atrocities that were committed during the 
first months of the war, which resulted in 
the utter destioiction of farms, villages, towns, and cities 
along the path of the invading army, and the untold 
misery and suffering visited upon the peaceful inhabi- 
tants. 

The spectres of the blood-stained soldiers killed in 
battle appear before the eyes of the woodman as he 
recites his ghastly dream to tke spell-bound boy, listen- 
ing to the frightful tale. 




Through Belgian land, by my command, 
We hacked our bloody way 

stanza XXXIV, Page 4; 



THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PART III 

THE JUGGERNAUT OF WAR 



STANZA XXXIII 

''Then found we ground on whicli to sound 

The dread apocalypse. 
'Conquer or Die' — that was the cry 

On every soldier's lips. 
I saw them ride in martial pride 

And come to deadly grips. 

STANZA XXXIV 

"Through Belgian land, by my command, 

We hacked our bloody way; 
My faithful Huns with heavy guns 

Blew towns to crumbled clay. 
Along our path a stinking swath 

Of rotting bodies lay. 

( 47 ) 



48 TIU: WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA XXXV 

*'The shock, the jar, the roar of war 

Thundered afar and near ; 
The battle shout, the charge and rout 

Came bursting on the €ar; 
And women's sighs and maidens' cries 

Presaged their anguished fear. 



STANZA XXXVI 

*'The squadrons reel! With fiery zeal 
My troops plunge in the fray; 

Death circles o'er the mire and gore 
Where men each other slay; 

Wrecks, corses, blood, death, fire, and flood 
Make footprints on our way. 



STANZA XXXVII 

**With claw and fang on fair Louvain® 

My lustful war-dogs fell; 
They gave no grace, they sacked the plaoe 

With force none could repel. 
And horror stalked and murder walked 

With conscience wide as hell. 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 49 

STANZA XXXVIII 

''For full two days and nights the blaze 

Of buildings filled the sky ; 
A mighty gust of rape and hist 

And fire and death swept by ; 
Bleeding and torn, jioon, night, and morn, 

The living prayed to die. 

STANZA XXXIX 

*'Here, side by side, we crucified 
Tvfo men, with trench knives keen 

On door impaled ; as Pilate nailed 
The gentle Nazarene 

Two thieves betwixt ; — but here we fixed 
A baby in between.® 

STANZA XL 

*'Our swift advance in Northern France 

Was terrible, yet grand ; 
The terraced w^alls of ancient halls 

Were shattered into sand; 
Ripe fields of grain w-ere stripped amain 

As locusts strip the land. 



50 THE AYOODMAN'S DREAM 

STANZA XLI 

''Our shrapnel broke; in battle smoke 
The deadly fragments flew; 

By shell and shot chateau and cot 
Were blotted from the view; 

Quick, stifling death was in the breath 
Of every wind that blew. 



STANZA XLII 

''With scarce a pause we pressed our cause. 

Pushed on toward our goal; 
Along the way torn bodies lay 

In every blasted hole; 
And every vale and fertile swale 

Became a bloody bowl. 

STANZA XLIII 

"My dachshund drank the blood that stank, 

Where gory streams did flow; 
Wing-footed bats and loathsome rats 

Feasted on friend and foe; 
And on the sod where my horse trod 

The grass refused to grow.® 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 51 



STANZA XLIV 

''The ground ran blood — a crimson flood — 

It poured into the streams; 
The worms that crawl sucked blood and spawl, 

And battened to extremes. 
! Crimson blight ! This gory sight 

I see in all my dreams. 



STANZA XLV 

''The Teuton black lay on his back, 
With arms and legs spread wide ; 

The lifeless Gaul rolled like a ball; 
The Briton on his side, 

Arm under head, as if in bed, 
Beside his sleeping bride.® 



STANZA XLVI 

*'Our &\e months' wait at Verdun's gate 

Was bad for us. Alas ! 
The Gaul at bay, said, 'Come what may, 

We will not let them pass.' 
My storm troops brave, wave after wave, 

Were cut down like the grass. 



52 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA XLVII 

"And noAv the hosts of spectral ghosts. 
With garments steeped in gore, 

Accusing stalk; and I can balk 
My Nemesis no more. 

See ! There they stand ! This venge^'ul hitnd 
Clad in the rags they wore — 



STANZA XLVIII 

^^Clad in their rags — blood-dotted bags — 

Foul fie lids ! Come not to grips 
With me ! Stand bach ! You bloody pack 

Will cause wy souVs eclipse.''^ 
The boy spell-bound, looked up and found 

Froth on the woodman's lips. 




THE EHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PART IV 

THE HORRORS OF THE DEEP 



SUMMARY OF PART IV 




'OUNTLESS hosts of grisly ghosts of men 
killed on the battlefields continue to appear 
before the eyes of the woodman and torture 
him by accusing him of their deaths. The 
miserable man here says that in his dream he 
wab carried by a devil to the bottom of the Sargasso Sea, 
"the graveyard of the Atlantic," to see the wrecks — the 
Lusitania and a Red Cross boat among the number — 
that had been caused by the introduction of submarine 
warfare. 

The awful destruction that had been perpetrated by 
the use of submarines gives the woodman opportunity to 
portray the horrors of naval warfare as practiced by his 
people under the leadership of the admiral of his Grand 
Fleet. 




Ill all my dreams I hear the screams 
Of men and women drowned 

Stanza LIV, Page 59 



TKE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PART IV 

THE HORRORS OF THE DflEP 



STANZA XLIX 



The woodman said, ''Now they have fled, 

But they will come again ; 
Yea, countless hosts of grisly ghosts 

And fiends and murdered men; 
Throng upon throng, the whole day long 

They come within my ken. 



STANZA L 

''Within my room these sprites of doom 

Cry out for vengeance dire; 
Night, morn, and noon, they croak and croon 

Chants of the Devil's Choir; 
There they abound and circle round 

Like scorpions ringed with fire. 

<«7) 



IS THE wood:\[an'S dream 



STANZA LI 

"From out the pit these spectres flit 
And round about me sweep; 

With fearful moans and rending groans 
They sob, sigh, wail, and weep; 

They sit and crouch around my couch. 
In death the^^ cannot sleep. 



STANZA LII 

' ' Their shadows loom from out the gloom 

Each night around my bed» 
In serried mass these dead men pass 

With solemn noiseless tread; 
They point at me and then I see 

My fingers dripping red. 



STANZA LIII 

' ' Oh ! Curse of Cain ! My reeling brain 
Seems bursting with the theme! 

Still they arise — before my eyes — 
These ghosts with eyes a-gleam. 

From hell's abyss! Remember — this 
Is but a horrid dream ! 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 59 



STANZA LIV 

"In all my dreams I hear the screams 
Of men and women drowned; 

Their awful cries rise to the skies 
And on my ear-drums sound. 

Fiends mock at me and shout in glee, 
And devils dance around. 



STANZA LV . 

''One night methought a devil caught 

My trembling soul in glee ; 
And through dark space, with frightful pace, 

He swiftly carried me 
With circling sweep down to the deep, 

Drear, foul Sargasso Sea.® 



STANZA LVI 

''Sargasso Deep, where whirlpools sweep. 
And ghouls their watches keep ; 

Where dead men sleep in caverns deep. 
And slimy monsters creep. 

E'en harpies weep to see the heap 
Of wrecks piled fathoms deep. 



60 THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



^ STANZA LVII 

''There, in a flood of viscous mud, 

Beneath the tumbling main, 
I saw the decks of fearful wrecks ; 

Ten thousand victims slain. 
Wide-eyed they stared — my guilt declared 

Unto my throbbing brain. 



STANZA LVIII 

''Upon each craft, both fore and aft, 

Great piles of bodies lay, 
Bereft of breath, and stiff in death. 

Some starting to decay; 
And some I found were floating round 

Like derelicts astray. 



STANZA LIX 

''A fair haired lass was first to pass 

Before my frenzied eye — 
Two stalwart men — a young lad — then 

An old man floated by; 
And, clad in white, her babe clasped tight, 

A mother hovered nigh. 



I 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 61 



STANZA LX 

'^Oh Godi I shook to see the look 
Of anguish, horror, fright, 

And woe replete — as — at my feet 
She cast the little mite; 

I looked away in sheer dismay, 
I could not bear the sight. 



STANZA LXI 

''The Lusitaiiia rusting lay, 

Shorn of her speed and grace ; 
Nearby some smacks, and merchant wracks, 

Tramp ships of slower pace, 
A Red Cross boat, which our men smote 

And sank without a trace. 



STANZA LXII 

''Down hell's abyss a soul from bliss 
Is dragged by an orphan's curse; 

And a curse in the glare of a dead man's stare, 
In truth, is ten times worse; 

But what is worse than a damning curse 
In the eye of a Red Cross nurse ?® 



62 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA LXIII 

"I saw the .wrecks, the rotting decks 

Where putrid bodies lay; 
Tlie rusting hullSj the grinning _ skull s 

That mocked the carrion clay— , 
Yea, slimy guests gnawed human bFeasts,^ 

Feasting the livelong day. 



STANZA LXIV 

''The giant squid, ten-arm 'd, bestrid 

His quarry — eyes agleam. 
Dark leeches craAvled and fat eels sprawled 

Where deep sea monsters teem — 
Boy, why so pale? This gruesome tale 

Is but a madding dream." 




THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PART V 

THE PROPHECY OF DOOM 




SUMMARY OF PART V 



In this part the woodman tells how the 
spectres of the men and women he caused to 
be killed in the great war, coming before 
him continually, are driving him to the verge 
of madness. Even the solace of death is 
denied him for when Death and Life-in-Death cast dice 
for him the latter wins and will keep him from Death 
for sometime longer in order to torture him mentally 
for the misery he caused others to suffer. Death is 
sometimes a happy relief from mental or bodily suffer- 
ing, but the arch-culprit of this Great War, the prime 
offender, is reserved for a more dreadful punishment. 
One of the fiends, who scarcely ever leave his side, 
asleep or awake, tells him this and prophesies that he 
is doomed to live until he has suffered the most excru- 
ciating mental agony that ever mortal man endured. 




Look boy ! I seem to see my dream ! 
Look ! There the foul fiend peers 

Stanza LXXVI, Page 71 



THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PART V 

THE PROPHECY OF DOOM 



STANZA LXV 



*'My hands were cold as graveyard mold, 

My brain like solar heat; 
My palate clung fast to my tongue, 

My breath left me complete ; 
Gone was my Avill, my heart stood still — 

Stopped — midway in its beat. 



STANZA LXVI 

*'For now a fiend rose and careened 
From out the dismal place 

And shouted loud to all the crowd. 
With horrid, foul grimace, 

'At last he's here! Attila's peer!® 
Scourge of the Human Race! 

(67 ) 



68 THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA LXVII 

*' *Foul wretcli accurst, thy bubble's burst, 

Know now thy race is run ; 
For our friends. Death and Life-in-Death, 

For thee the dice have spun ; 
The hand of Fate pays back thy hate. 

For Life-in-Death hath won.® 



STANZA LXVIII 

*' 'And thou shalt live a fugitive — 

In exile thou must dwell 
Scorned by the world — from power hurled — 

Thy soul a, shriveled shell; 
Though death be nigh thou shalt not die 

Till thou hast tasted hell. 



STANZA LXIX 

'' 'It is thy doom to live in gloom 
Till thou hast paid the toll ; 

For Life-in-Death will lend thee breath 
And keep thee off Death's scroll. 

Till every corse brings keen remorse 
To thy black perjured soul. 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 09 



STANZA LXX 

" 'To Ih'e in dread with all thy dead 
And drag around each corse; 

Thy heart a tomb ; this is the doom 
The vengeful sprites endorse. 

Go ! Live thy hell ! In torments dwell 
And burn with thv remorse ! 



STANZA LXXI 

'' 'Thou dost await strong Milo's fate,® 

'Tis destined so to be; 
Didst aim in vain to tear in twain 

The cleft stem of a tree ;® 
Caught in the cleft — of hope bereft — 

Now wolves sliall worrv thee. 



STANZA LXXII 

'' 'They'll rive and maim thy Avretchod frame, 

And crunch thy marrow-bone ; 
They'll tear thy heart, rend thee apart, 

And drag thee from thy throne; 
And thou shalt bear thy deep despair 

Abandoned and alone. 



70 THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA LXXIII 

' ' ' Alone ! Alone thou must atone 
For all the blood thou'st spilt. 

Like shell-torn stys, dismembered lies 
The empire Bismarck built 

With bloody hands, upon the sands 
Of rapine, lust and guilt. 



STANZA LXXIV 

" 'Thou Shalt adorn St. Lucia's Thorn® 

Till thy last hour is sped; 
Luke 's Iron Crown shall be pressed down 

Upon thy throbbing head ; 
Tisiphone shall wait for thee ® 

As soon as thou art dead. 



STANZA LXXV 

'' 'And Pluto's bell shall ring thy knell;® 

Foul hags howl at thy bier; 
Wild demons roar at Charon 's shore ® 

And split thy frighted ear; 
And hot Liferno scorch and burn 

Thy heart till it doth sear.' 



-nry. 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 71 



STANZA LXXVI 

''There, in the gloom, these words of doom 
Filled me with frenzied fears; 

Boy^ look ! I seem to see my dream ! 
Look ! There the foul fiend peers ! 

Behind that tree he grins at me, 
TJiis imp of nether sjtheres ! 



STANZA LXXVII 



(c 



Grin not at me! My sea-lord — lie — 

He hatched the naval scheme. 
Murder ! I choke ! Hold ! Stay thy stroke ! 

Is this a purple stream f 
Boy, do I bleed f No? Take no heed 

To this — my gruesome dream. 



STANZA LXXVIII 

''With menace fell, these imps of hell 
Hound me and drive me mad — 

In bloody shrouds, These spectre crowds 
Stand by me now ' Nay, lad, 

This frightful hell— this tale I tell— 
Is but a dream I had. 



72 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA LXXIX 

* ' Oh, horrid trance ! These devils dance 

Forever at my side. 
All racked by pain, my boiling brain 

Is like a molten tide. 
Death would be sweet! My hands and feet 

Burn like one crucified." 



STANZA LXXX 

The woodman paused. His terror caused 

His labored breath to fail 
And froth to drip from bloodless lip, 

His face was ashen pale; 
He bowed his head and minutes sped 

Ere he resumed his tale. 




THE RHYME OP THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PART YI 

THE BRAND OF CAIN 



SUMMARY OF PART VI 




ERE the wretched man tells how, in his 
dream, he is brought before God's Messenger, 
the Angel Gabriel, who pronounces judg- 
ment upon him and orders Ithuriel to prick 
him with his spear. The slightest touch of 
Ithuriel's spear exposes deceit and so the originator of 
the greatest crime that was ever perpetrated is to be 
stripped of his regal trappings and exposed to the world 
in his true character, a cowardly scoundrel who runs 
away from danger as soon as it appears, notwithstanding 
the vain-glorious boastings that he had indulged in for a 
quarter of a century. Ithuriel touches him with his spear 
ami then pronounces the curse. 




Thy regal gear shall disappear 
And fall from thee apart 

Stanza LXXXIV, Page 78 



THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 

PART VI 

THE BRAND OF CAIN 



STANZA LXXXI 



"Methought, last night, a devil sprite 

Said, ^Furies, seize on him.' 
They, on a shore, set me before 

The Warrior Cherubim® 
Who struck me dumb. On Haizum® 

He sat austere and grim. 

STANZA LXXXII 

''Beside a block of solid rock 

That piled up to a cloud, 
Sat the Messiah's Messenger, 

Disdainful, stern, and proud ; 
His guards stood near ; then with a clear, 

Deep voice he spake aloud: 

(77) 



78 THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA LXXXIII 



c ( i rt 



Thou Monster fell ! Thou Sink of Hell I 
Thou impious mutineer! 
Dost think thou ean'st escape the ban 
That God has made so clear? 

Thou Infidel I IthuHel @ 

Will touch thee with his qmir. 



STANZA LXXXIV 

'' 'And at its touch, his power is such 

Thy glory shall depart. 
Thy regal gear shall disappear 

And fall from thee apart 
When thou dost feel the pointed steel 

Of good Ithuriel's dart. 



STANZA LXXXV 

" ^Thou deaf and dumb blind m'mth! What i>liunM 

Can sound thy deepest shame! 
What transit rood the altitude 

Of thy dishonored name ? 
What lens so rare can ever bare 

Thy wicked, hell-born fame? 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 79 



STANZA LXXXVI 

'' 'For decades three, with gust and glee 

And paltry, cheap deceits, 
Thou did'st surround thy palace ground 

With Junkers, cads, and cheats, 
Their goose-step stride and high-blown pride 

Pilled thee with vain conceits. 



STANZA LXXXVir 

" ' Did'st seem to be of high degree, 

Cast in heroic mold ; 
A king of right— a gallant knight- 

A soldier brave and bold — 
A statesman wise, of giant size, 

Like Charlemagne of old. 



STANZA LXXXVIII 

'' 'Thus thou did'st pose to friends and foes 

And did'st strut out thy play, 
In cloak of white, in tinsel bright, 

In trappings grand and gay ; 
With regal mien seeking to screen 

A man of straw and clay. 



80 THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA LXXXIX 

" 'Bnt when his spear halts thy career 
Then shalt thou stand revealed, 

A poltroon blind, bankrupt in mind, 
With leprous blood congealed; 

A run-away, whose sheer dismay 
Can be no more concealed. 



STANZA XC 

" 'And then the true shall come to view 
From out the fog and murk ; 

For no false thing can stand the sting 
Of Heaven's avenging dirk 

And keep its shape. ThouTt not escape! 
Ithuriel^ do thy work I ' 



STANZA XCI 

"Quick as a glance the cherub's lance ® 
Pricked me. I saw its gleam ! 

And in the road, squat like a toad,® 
I fell, so it did seem 

In this my dream. I could not scream — 
My fright was so extreme. 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 81 



STANZA XCII 

' ' Then with dismay I heard him say 

'Be as thou truly art, 
Stark-naked hurled before the world, 

Like Judas set apart. 
Without appeal, now, thou shalt feel 

The stabs deep in thy heart. 



STANZA XCIII 

'' 'Down blood-stained glades thy glory fades 

And turns to mist again; 
For fortune flees the land that sees 

The tears of stalwart men;@ 
And woes await the potentate 

Who rules his country then. 



STANZA XCIV 

" 'Thy withered frame shall bear the shame 

Of all thy crimes so vast ; 
Thy ruin'd mind shall torture find 

In mem 'ries of the past ; 
Thy shriveled soul shall face the goal 

Seared by the fiery blast. 



82 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA XCV 

** *The scorching breath of living death 

Shall ever be thy bane. 
With deep regret, lo, thou shalt sweat 

Great gouts of bloody rain, 
And slowly rot, by God forgot, 

Stamped M'ith the brand of Cain. 



STANZA XCVI 

' ' ' This mark of Cain shall scar thy brain, 

For so my Master saith ; 
Thou shalt convulse with every pulse 

And with each labored breath; 
Each hour, each day — lo, thou shalt pray- 

Prav for the stine^ of death.' '' 




THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 
PART VII 
NEIVIESIS 



SUMMARY OF PART VII 




CLIMAX is reached in the last part which 
shows how the doomed man is daily haunted 
by the spectacle of the diabolical murder of 
Bdith Cavell, a native of Albion, who during 
the last fifteen years of her life w^as the 
head nurse in a hospital in the capital of Belgium. His 
hatred of her countrymen for entering the war in behalf 
of the little country carried the Chief of the Huns to 
surh an excess that he had this nurse dragged out of the 
hospital and cast into the prison of St. Gilles. On the 
slightest pretext she was tried by court-martial, and, 
against all the rules of civilized warfare, sentenced to 
death late at night. At break of day the next morning 
she was taken to the rifle range where ten soldiers fired 
a volley at her at close range, (five paces) missing her 
completely. At the second volley one bullet just slightly 
grazed her, whereupon the officer in command rushed up 
close and shot her to death with his revolver. 

This was the first great blunder of the war, for 
nearly one million of her countrymen voluntarily 
enlisted within a few days after the news reached 
Albion. The greatest blunder of all, however, was when 
the destruction of the Lusitania was ordered some time 
later. This unspeakable crime brought the power of the 
great Republic of the West into the war and sent two 
million Americans overseas into the fight against the 
greatest criminal of all time. 

The last stanza of the poem shows a picture of this 
criminal in his castle at Doom, sleepless, miserable and 
alone with all his millions of murdered dead, where the 
author leaves him, "plunged in a living hell." 



e-i 




Her smile doth strike me through. It's like 
A dagger to my heart. 

Stanza C, Page 



THE RHYME OF THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 
PART VII 
NEMESIS 



STANZA XCVII 



''The Angel host forsook the post 

And left me with that curse. 
Look! Who comes here, straight }ro)}i her bier 

The nurse! The English nurse! 
Her dress! Her hood! All steeped in blood ! 

Could I be tortured worse ? 



STANZA XCVIII 

' ' Gentle Nurse ! Withhold thy curse ! 

Give ear unto my plea 
For Christ's dear sake! Nay, do not shake 

Thy gory locks at me ! 
Pity ! I pray, for none can say 

I signed thy death decree. 

(87) 



88 THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA XCIX 

' ' [ was a fool, a servile tool, 

They played upon my fears. 
Can naught appease? Will not the seas 

Wash out those bloody smears? 
My heart doth freeze. Will not the breeze 

Dry up those crimson tears ! 



STANZA C { 

''Why me pursue? Fade from my view! ! 

Go far away! Depart! | 

Didst see her smile, so free from guile? ,| 

It hath no counterpart. I 
Her smile doth strike me through. It's like 

A dagger to my heart. 



STANZA CI 

' ' Her smile to nie is agony ; -; i 

Her blood-stained garb appalls. { ; 

Her presence here fills me with fear, f ; 

October TAvelfth recalls, \ 

When she was killed — her life-blood spilled ! 

Outside a prison's walls. , j 




The Captain swears, his pistol flares 
Down sinks the nurse to die. 

Stanza CII, Page 89. 



TIIE WOODMAN'S DREAM 91 



STANZA CII 

' ' Ten soldiers stand with guns in hand, 
Once, twice, their bullets fly; 

In glory swathed she stands unscathed — 
The balls pass harmless by; 

The captain swears, his pistol flares, 
Down sinks the nurse to die. 



STANZA cm 

''So, every day, I see them slay 
This nurse before my eyes; 

I see the balls splash on the walls, 
I watch her as she dies. 

I hear the shot, I see the spot 
Where her dead body lies. 



STANZA CrV 

''And every night this horrid sight 
I see again — again; 

From her rent side the crimson tide 
Comes gushing out amain; 

Each bloody clot — hot — scalding hot- 
Seethes in my dizzy braim 



92 THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA CV 

''I cannot think. Upon the brink 

Of madness stark I fret. 
Remembrance keen, fills me with spleen, 

With qualms, remorse, regret. 
Past scenes I view, past pains renew; 

Would that I could forget! 



STANZA CVI 

"My daily prayer, in my despair, 

Is that a barren hill ® 
Will cover me; that mountains be 

Made fall so that they will 
Conceal me from the wrath to come — 

That comes to those who kill. 



STANZA CVII 

''Each weary day creeps, crawls away, 

Each minute like a score ; 
With leaden feet the seconds beat 

Upon night's Stygian shore. 
Till life doth cease, no rest or peace 

Shall be mine, evermore. 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 93 



STANZA CVIII 

*'Gone, all is gone, there is not one 

To pity as I mourn; 
Lost, all is lost, I'm tempest-tossed, 

Forsaken, and forlorn; 
Death 's bitter pain would be my gain- 

Oh, that I'd ne'er been born. 



STANZA CIX 

'''Look! Ere I faint! This Red Cross saint! 

Oh! See her blood-stained hair! 
And see those eyes! She magnijies 

My te7'rible desfair! 
My strength is spent! My punishment® 

Is more than I can bear.'* 



STANZA CX 

The v/oodman sank do^\ai on the bank, 

His face was like the dead; 
His brow was wet with clammy sweat, 

His nostrils freely bled; 
He gasped for breath, as one near death ; 

The boy in terror fled. 



!)4 



THE WOODMAN'S DREAM 



STANZA CXI 

Not far away one could survey 
The Doom Castle pile — 

Its ivy green, its towers that screen 
An evil, foul exile — 

A craven jade, a renegade, 
The vilest of the vile. 



STANZA CXII 

At midnight deep, while gentle sleep 

Cast o'er the boy its spell, 
A withered thing that once was king. 

Sat crouching in a cell, 
Aione, in dread, with all his dead, 

Plunged in a living hell. 




MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 

MEMORIAL DAY 
THE WAR LORD 



MEMORIAL DAY 



Once more the blue-clad veterans come 

With slow and feeble tread; 
Once more they march to muffled drum 

In honor of their dead. 
The dead they left "away down South," 

At Corinth — Champion's Hill — 
On Groveton's Field, near Bull Run mouth,- 
At Fair Oaks — Bentonville. 
The dead who died to set the black man free. 
Who broke the hateful chains of slavery; 
The dead who died for you and me! 
For you and me! 

Here come the men of Ninety-eight, 

With strong and heavy tread; 
Again they march erect and straight 

In honor of their dead. 
The dead they left on Cuba's Isle — 

El Canay — San Juan — 
When the Rough Riders, Western style, 
Broke up the Spanish plan. 
The dead who died to set the Cubans free, 
For right, for justice and humanity; 
The dead who died for you and me! 
For you and me! 
(97) 



98 



MEMORIAL DAY 



Now come the youths, the khaki-clads, 

With quick and sprightly tread; 
They march along, brave stalwart lads, 

In honor of their dead. 
The dead they left in Argonne Wood — 

Canibrai and St. Mihiel — 
At Chateau Thierry where they stood 
And rang the Kaiser's knell. 
The dead who died to set small nation's free, 
To make the world safe for democracy; 
The dead who died for you and me! 
For yeu and me! 

May 30, 1919. 



^^9 .^ 




THE WAR LORD 



MENE, MENE, TEKEL, VPHAJiSm.— Dante/ V. 2s 



Behold the War Lord sweeping to his doom, 

Cursed by uncounted millions, quick and dead! 

The flower of Europe, cut off in the bloom, 

Is crushed beneath ths ruthless Moloch's tread. 
And, dying, breathes out curses on his head. 

Impoverished Poland perishes in gloom, 

And bleeding Belgium begs for crusts of bread, 

And Serbia swoons. God \ Make this vampire spoom 

To an inglorious and ignominious tomb. 

Behold this ghoul, who claimed the right divine 
To lord it o'er the people in his land, 

Maintaining God did unto him assign 

The lives of men to play with, as with sand 
To scatter as he listeth from his hand. 

Such blasphemy, believed, made him incline 
His ear to flattery from his "Junker" band, 

Which soon was poisoned with the foul design 

To make the world, affrighted, worship at his shrine. 

( 99 ) 



100 THE WAR LORD 



Baneful ambition and the lust for power 

Faffed haughty Satan up with pride high-blown, 

That this arch-rebel, in an evil hour, 

Essayed to shake the columns of God's throne, 
From Faradise to Hell God cast him prone. 

Heedless of this ensample, from his tower, 

The War Lord planned to rule the world alone, 

Rich, neighboring lands he lusted to deflower 

And, with his vulture armies, devastate and scour. 



The pillars of democracy he shook 

To their foundations; bridle-deep in blood 

He waded; Prussia's plighted word he took 
And tore asunder, unbridling a flood 
Of German "Kultur," rapine, lust; his food 

Was blood of old men, women, babes. By hook 

And crook he hacked his bloody way; each rood 

Of fat land visited — by God forsook — 

Became a weltering mass of powdered shards and ruck. 



Belgium is crushed, Serbia and France bled white. 
And Montenegro dies at his behest, 

Gallant Albania blotted from the sight, 

Fair Foland ravished by her Tarquin guest. 
And Russia and Great Britain put to test. 

These do not sate the War Lord's appetite, 
For now, the great Republic of the West 

Comes in the purview of his baleful sight. 

And we must do his will or battle for our right. 



THE WAR LORD 



101 



Shall we — whose forebears stood at Runnymede 
And wrung a Magna Charta from a king — 

Shall we submit? Shall we dance to his reed? 
Our fathers broke King George's royal wing 
For Freedom's sake, and shall a scatterling 

Trace out the sea-lanes where our vessels speed? 
No! No! Defiance to his teeth we'll fling. 

Our father's sons are we — our veins shall bleed 

And seas incarnadine — to prove we're true to breed. 



Up with the starry banner we adore! 

Ho! Bugler! Sound the trumpet's warning note! 
Ho! Soldier! Sailor! Rally to the fore 

And keep the dear old Stars and Stripes afloat. 

Ere we our rights surrender — by a mote, 
The scuppers of our decks shall run with gore, 

And millions face the deadly cannon's throat. 
Across the seas our stalwart men will pour 
From Huron's lake to Gulf, from east to western shore! 



Feb. 12, 1917. 




APPENDIX 



NOTES 



© STANZA X, Page 30. 

The Dream of Eugene Aram. A powerful ballad by 
Thomas Hood, founded on the story of Eugene Aram, a 
Yorkshire schoolmaster, who committed a murder under 
very peculiar circumstances. He hid the body in a cave 
and the bones were not discovered until fifteen years 
later. The murder so preyed upon Aram's mind that he 
was continually talking to his pupils about murders. 
Upon the discovery of the bones Aram was arrested, 
tried, found guilty, and hanged, after an unsuccessful 
attempt to commit suicide. 

The story of Eugene Aram is also the basis of a novel 
by Bulwer Lytton and W. G. Wills has dramatized it. 

(2) STANZA XXIII, Page 39. 

Junkers. The German War Party. 

® STANZA XXX, Page 41. 

Der Tag. In "tag" "a" takes the third sound as in 
the word "all." 

STANZA XXXVII, Page 48. 

Louvain. (Loo-vang'). A city in Belgium, popula- 
tion 50,000. On August 20, 21 and 22, 1914, more than 
50,000 German soldiers passed through Louvain. On the 
night of the 22nd the city was given up to the soldiers 
to be sacked, iiarge groups of citizens were led to 
execution, the "brute" passions of the German soldiers 
broke their bonds, and for two days scenes of violence 
indescribable were enacted. After looting the city it was 
put to the torch and on August 24, it was a black- 
ened ruin. The architectural treasures of the Halles and 
the University, with its famous library were destroyed. 
Only the wall of St. Peter's Church, which had contained 
(102) 



APPENDIX 103 



many priceless paintings, remained. This was the reward 
given to the German soldier for his splendid march 
through Belgium, and the capture of Brussels, which 
surrendered on August 20. 

© STANZA XXXIX, Page 49. 

Many instances of the crucifixion of Canadian pris- 
ou'^rs of war were reported during the early stages of 
the great conflict. The Germans considered that the 
Canucks were interlopers and so visited special ven- 
geance on their Canadian prisoners. That is why the 
Canadians had "no accommodations for prisoners" in 
succeeding engagements until crucifixions stopped. 
During the sacking of Malines eyewitnesses reported 
that a victory-flushed soldier marched through the 
streets with the body of a baby stuck on the end of the 
bayonet affixed to his rifle, he and his comrades singing 
as they marched. (See Bryce Evidence). 

(D STANZA XLII, Lines 5 and 6, Page 50. 
Compare with: — 

"And where the Spahi's hoof hath trod, 
The verdure flies the bloody sod. 

Byron, Mazeppa. 

@ STANZA XLV, Page 51. 

Soldiers, returning from France, say that there is a 
great difference in the manner in which the soldiers of 
the different nationalities die on the battlefield. Ger- 
mans always lie flat on the ground, with their limbs 
spread wide apart; a Frenchman rolls himself into a 
ball with his head between his legs; Americans and 
British always lie on their side, as if asleep. This is a 
curious circumstance, but one that can be easily verified 
by making inquiries from those who have seen dead 
bodies of all nationalities on the battlefield. 

(D STANZA LV, Page 59. 

Sargasso Sea. A region occupying the interior of 
the great gyration of the Gulf Stream in the North 
Atlantic. Into it is collected a large proportion of the 
drift or wreck that floats upon this ocean. It is also 
called the "Graveyard of the Atlantic." 



104 APPENDIX 



© STANZA LXII, Page 61. 

Compare with Stanza LX, Coleridge's "The Rime of 
the Ancient Mariner": 

"An orphan's curse would drag to Hell 

A spirit from on high; 
But oh! more horrible than that 
Is a curse in a dead man's eye! 
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse. 
And yet I could not die." 

@ STANZA LXVI, Page 67. 

Attila. The king of the Huns, usually called the 
"Scourge of God," on account of the ruthless and wide- 
spread destruction wrought by his arms. 

@ STANZA LXVII, Page 68. 

Here Death and the more horrible Life-in-Death 
shake the dice for the woodman, and the latter wins. 
Compare with "The Ancient Mariner," Stanza XL VI. 

(g) STANZA LXXI, Page 69. 

Milo. An athlete of Crotona, who lived in the last 
part of the Sixth Century, B. C, and was noted for his 
amazing strength. He could carry on his shoulders a 
four-year-old heifer. Milo attempted to tear in twain a 
cleft tree, but the parts, closing on his hands, held him 
fast, until he was devoured by wolves. 

"Remember Milo's end 

Wedged in that timber which he strove to rend." 
Wentworth Dillon, Essays on Translated Verse. 

@ STANZA LXXI, Page 69. 

The cleft stem of a tree. The two great English- 
speaking nations. The previous line refers to the Ger- 
man propaganda that was designed to separate them 
still further, but the cleft parts sprang together and 
held fast the modern Milo just as his prototype was held 
twenty-five centuries ago. 

@ STANZA LXXIV, Line 1, Page 70. 

St. Lucia's Thorn. St. Lucia was a martyr, put to 
death at Syracuse in 304. The "thorn" is in reality the 



APPENDIX 105 



point of a sword, shiown in all paintings of the saint, 
protruding through the neck. "Struck on St. Lucia's 
thorn" means on the rack, in torment. 

© STANZA LXXIV, Line 3, Page 70. 

Luke's Iron Crown. George and Luke Dosa headed 
an unsuccessful revolt against the Hungarian nobles in 
the Sixteenth Century. Luke was put to death by a red- 
hot iron crown, in mockery of his having been pro- 
claimed king. In the Twelfth Century, when Tancred 
usurped the crown of Sicily, Kaiser Heinrich VI. of Ger- 
many set him on a red-hot iron throne and crowned him 
with a red-hot iron crown. 

@ STANZA LXXIV, Line 5, Page 70. 

Tisiphone. (Ti-siph'o-ne). One of the three Furies 
and special avenger of murder. According to Greek 
mythology she sits day and night at Hell-gate, mounted 
on a winged griffin. She is covered with a bloody robe, 
her head coifed with serpents in lieu of hair, and her 
body bound with a girdle of vipers. She is always armed 
with a whip and is a terror to criminals, whom she 
pursues with unrelenting fury. 

@ STANZA LXXV, Line 1, Page 70. 

Pluto. In Greek mythology, the lord of the infernal 
regions. 

@ STANZA LXXV, Line 3, Page 70. 

Charon. (Ka'ron). The ferryman who transports 
the souls of the dead over the river Styx into the infernal 
regions. 

@ STANZA LXXXI, Page 77. 

The Warrior Cherubim, Gabriel, according to Milton, 
is called "Chief of the Angelic Guards." (Paradise Lost, 
IV., 549, and in book VI., 44 etc.) Michael is said to be of 
Celestial Armies Prince," and Gabriel "in military prow- 
ess next." Gabriel is also called the "Messenger of the 
Messiah," (Stanza LXXXII) because he was sent by the 
Messiah to execute His orders on the earth. 

Gabriel appeared to Daniel and interpreted a vision 
(Daniel 8:16-27; 9:21-27). 



106 APPENDIX 



Gabriel also appeared to Zacliarias and said unto 
him, "I am Gabriel, that stand in the presence of God 
and am sent to speak unto thee." (Luke 1:19.) 

Gabriel also appears to the Tirgin Mary. (Luke 
1:26-38). 

In the Koran, Gabriel is represented as the medium 
of revelation to Mohammed. 

@, STANZA LXXXI, Line 5, Page 77. 

Harzum. (3 syl.), the horse on which the Archangel 
Gabriel rode when he led a squadron of 3,000 angels 
against the Koreishites in the famous battle of Bedr. 

@ STANZA LXXXIII, Page 78. 

fthuriel. (I-thu'ri-el). An angel, a character in 
Milton's "Paradise Lost." He was sent by Gabriel to 
find out Satan. The slightest touch of his spear exposed 
deceit. 

(g) STANZA LXXXV, Page 78. 

Thou Deaf and Dumb Blind Mouth. Here we have 
a strange expression that looks, at the first glance, as if 
it might be a broken metaphor. Let us analyze it. 

A King, Emperor or President of a nation, besides 
possessing the qualities of a Ruler, should also possess 
the qualities of a Judge, a Statesman, a Bishop, and a 
Pastor. 

A Judge is a person who hears the grievances of his 
people and makes decisions that alleviate distress, 
restore justice, and establish equity; therefore, the 
worse judge is one who is "deaf." 

A Statesman is one who speaks and is a leader in 
the councils of his state; therefore, the worst statesman 
is one who is "dumb." 

A Bishop is one who sees or overseas his diocese; 
therefore, the most unbishoply character he can have is 
to be "blind." 

A Pastor is one who feeds his flock; therefore, the 
most unpastoral trait he can possess is, instead of feed- 
ing, to want to be fed, to be a "mouth." 

Take these four reverses together and we have 
"'deaf and dumb blind mouth." 



APPENDIX 



107 



@) STANZA XCI, Line 1, Page 80. 

The Cherub's Lar>ce. The agitation of the wood- 
man's mind is shown by his description of the weapon 
held by Ithuriel for he alternately calls it as a spear, 
a dart, a dirk, and a lance. 

@ STANZA XCI, Line 3, Page 80. 

Squat like a Toad. See "Paradise Lost, IV., line 800. 

@ STANZA XCIII, Lines 3 and 4, Page 81. 

" 'Father,' at length he murmured low — and wept like 
childhood then. 

Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of war- 
like men!' " 

Felecia Hemens, — "Bernardo del Carpio." 

^ STANZA CVI, Page 92. 
See Revalatlons, VL, 16. 

© STANZA CIX, Page 93. 

My punishment is more than I can bear. "And Cain 
said unto the Lord, my punishment is greater than I 
can bear." (Genesis, IV., 13). 




FINIS 



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